I frowned at him in the mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He frowned back at me. His frown was much harder than mine. It was cold, resentful, angry. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that you’re leaving town for a few months to research a new book?”
Shit. How did he find out? I leaned into the mirror and tried to be coy. “I didn’t know I needed to inform you of my plans.”
“It would have been nice if you had, Zoe. I respect you and I thought you held the same respect for me. Guess not, huh?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. Respect? Really? Mark and I obviously had different opinions on the meaning of the word. “I didn’t tell you because I’m still not sure if I’m going to go. Or how long I’ll be gone.”
“Don’t lie to me, Zoe,” Mark said, huffing. “We both know you’re leaving for Costa Rica next week to research your next book, probably for a few months if the press release from your publisher is correct.”
I forced myself to remain calm as I twisted the lipstick tube and avoided his stare in the mirror. “Who told you that?”
“No one had to tell me,” Mark said as he moved in close behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck, burning my skin like a hot desert wind. “It was front page of the literary section in today’s paper. Bestselling author Zoe Maxwell to spend the summer in Costa Rica researching her next bombshell novel. Leaving the man who loves her behind.”
I glared at his reflection in the mirror. “The man who loves her? Really? Is that what we have, Mark? Love?”
“You could have told me it was over,” he muttered, his lips pouting like a hurt little boy. “I should not have found out in the fucking paper.”
“They weren't supposed to release anything because it’s not a done deal,” I said through clenched teeth. I willed myself not to cry. Instead, I let anger take the lead. “Someone at the publisher jumped the gun. I’m really sorry you found out this way.”
“Does it matter now, though?” he asked, growling at me, his eyes seething with anger. “You’ve made your call. It’s over. We’re over. Fuck me very much!”
“What did you expect, Mark?” I asked, turning to face him. “You’re a married man. You’re never going to leave your wife. Sooner or later we both knew that this would have to end.”
“I just wish you would have told me the truth,” he said with a sigh that made him sound old and tired. “You should have said something when this first came up. I’m sure you’ve known about this for a while. Just because I’m married and this…”
“This what, Mark?” I asked, leaning against the counter with my arms folded over my chest. “This what?”
His hands sliced through the air. “This... What we have…”
“You mean us sneaking around and fucking like deviants in public bathrooms and in the back of your car or at my apartment in the middle of the day because you don’t have the balls to leave your wife? Is that the this you’re referring to, Mark?”
He swallowed hard and shook his head. “You always knew that I’d never leave her.”
“And you always knew that this would end, Mark.”
He glared into my eyes for a moment, and then slowly shook his head as he went to the door. “Good luck, Zoe,” he said as he opened the door. “This has been fun.”
CHAPTER ONE: Zoe
I didn’t chase after him. He wasn’t even mine to chase after. He was never mine. But his leaving felt like I was sucker punched in the stomach. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me as I stood there feeling devastated and confused. I was angry that the paper published the article. They were supposed to wait for another week. Goddammit!
I felt the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Why is it every time something good happens in my life, people end up getting hurt? That’s not how it’s supposed to go, but it seems like it never fails. I always end up hurting those that are the closest to me. Even though Mark was not mine to love, I cared deeply for him and never set out to hurt him. I didn’t even know how or why I cared for him, but I did. The sex had never been that good. Heck, tonight was the best sex we’ve ever had.
I dried my eyes and took one more glance in the mirror before opening the door and slipping out of the bathroom as inconspicuously as I could. I kept my head down as I walked through the crowd and headed right toward the exit. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. This was not how the night was supposed to go.
“Zoe Maxwell! In the flesh! How have you been?”
I stopped dead in my tracks, took a deep breath and turned around. It was Andrew Brock, a book reviewer for The Times who loved to take selfies with famous authors, yours truly included. I had to be nice to Andrew, even though he got on my last nerve.
“Andrew,” I said, grinning as I held out my hand. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been fabulous,” he said with a smug smile. “I hear you’re about to take a little island vacation to work on your next book.”